


Light Shivers Offshore

by abib918



Series: After Watchmen [1]
Category: Watchmen (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Walter Lives, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon Fix-It, take that manhattan, ya big blue nutcase
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24444649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abib918/pseuds/abib918
Summary: Walter didn't die in the Arctic. Dan and Laurie bring him back to New York, and he has a lot to learn.
Relationships: Dan Dreiberg/Laurie Juspeczyk/Rorschach
Series: After Watchmen [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760107
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

He woke up in a strange house. Unfamiliar. He was wrapped up in warm blankets, and the TV was turned on quiet. It was strange. Where _was_ he? Last he remembered, in the fog of recent events, he'd been in the Arctic, yelling at God to kill him. One more body among the foundations. What did it matter? But he wasn't dead... was he? Walter checked his pulse. Slower then usual. Relaxed. His brow furrowed. So he _wasn't_ dead. Interesting. He unwrapped himself, noting his clothes. He'd been stripped of his suit and coat, and changed into pajamas. Daniel's, he assumed. Too large for his scrawny frame. 

Where was his mask? Likely with the suit, he reasoned. A quiet walk into a kitchen, and he didn't quite know where to begin. _Was_ this Daniel's house? No. Daniel's place was smaller then this. Ms. Juspeczyk's? Maybe. He'd never seen her house. The clock on the wall said noon, which further confused him, given he was still in pajamas. He should be out on the street by now. He should have his copy of the Frontiersman. The sound of another pair of feet broke his thoughts, and he turned to face his old partner, who sighed in relief, "Oh thank God, you're awake." 

"Daniel." He responded, quietly. 

Dan crossed the kitchen and hugged his partner tight. Walter squirmed, and Dan let go, shaking his head, "Sorry. Forgot. You were just... out for so long. I thought I might actually have to take you to a hospital." 

Walter snorted, "Glad you didn't." 

"I know, buddy." his partner cleaned his glasses briefly, before returning them to his face, "You must be hungry. Do you want anything?"

"More wondering where we are. Ms. Juspeczyk's house?" 

"Yeah.." Dan looked his partner up and down, "You sure you're not hungry?"

He gave no response. He wasn't sure. 

The other nodded, "Well, if you have any more questions, let me know, alright?" 

Walter stared in confusion at Daniel, "Where are you going?" 

"I'm not... really going anywhere? I was gonna make some lunch for myself and Laurie. Did you want some?"

He thought for a moment. Did he? Was he hungry? He wasn't sure what he felt anymore. "...Sure." The response came out quiet. Muted. Why? He'd never felt like this. So... useless. Unworthy. It twisted his insides. He wasn't all that hungry, but he knew Dan would worry if he didn't eat. He was always that way. He remembered spending nights in the man's house simply because Daniel refused to let him leave, out of sheer concern. He was almost jealous, envious of Daniel's worry. His ability to worry. 

Walter had never worried about anyone else. 

He wondered what it was like. 

Daniel brought him soup. It warmed his insides and he ate it far too quickly, suppressing hiccups so as to not seem childish. That would never do. A thanks was in order, though. "Thank you." 

The man across from him, trying to avoid sitting on Walter's feet since he'd put them up on the couch and shoved himself into a corner, just smiled and nodded, "Of course." he adjusted his glasses, "...I know it's... a bit soon. But... do you remember anything from Karnak? At all?" 

Walter finished eating, holding the bowl in his lap, thinking. Did he? "...snow. Cold. Manhattan almost killing me." 

"He said you told him to do it." 

A dead silent pause. Walter blinked hard, "Did. He couldn't even manage that." 

"He didn't want to kill you."

"Told him to. Should've listened. Veidt's utopia is at risk." 

Dan just watched his old partner for a moment. There was shame on his face. It had always been hard to tell with the mask on, but now that it was off, he realized that Walter was just a bit more expressive then he'd realized. He wondered how much Walter hated that. "So? Your life matters more then some genius-fueled fever dream." He didn't know what to call him now. Walter? Rorschach? What _was_ he now? "Anyway. I've probably bothered you enough." he gestured to the bowl, "You want me to take that?" 

The ginger nodded, and Dan took it from him, as Walter just sat in silence. Did he really matter _that_ much to Dan? Or was there a reason he'd been saved? There had to be. There was always a reason. There couldn't not be. 

He sank into the couch. The pajamas were still too big, and the TV was still on. Walter Kovacs shut his eyes, listening to Dan washing dishes. 

He was _alive._


	2. Chapter 2

He finished washing the bowl, putting it back in the cabinet Laurie had showed him, returning the spoon to its spot in the drawer. Dan looked back at his partner. He was asleep, for once. He was just thankful he'd had a spare set of pajamas, lest he have to _wait_ to wash Walter's clothes ( God, they'd smelled awful ). They should've been almost done in the dryer, he thought. The mask, he'd left alone. He didn't want to ruin it, especially considering who it belonged to. Woe betide anyone who tried to ruin the mask. He was honestly lucky he'd gotten it off. 

Maybe it should've concerned him when Walter hadn't mentioned it. 

He left it alone though. Walter already probably had enough on his mind. 

Laurie joined him in the living room soon enough, having finished preparations for the guest she'd been less then thrilled to have. It was only at Dan's insistence that she let him stay. She glanced over to the scrawny ( had he always been that way? ) ginger on the couch, still wearing Dan's too big pajamas and pressed into a corner, wrapped in, in her opinion, too many blankets. But he must've been somewhat comfortable, considering he hadn't run off yet. She turned to Dan, "Has he woken up yet?" 

"He did for a bit." the man nodded, "Got up and everything. He seemed confused, but... honestly, who wouldn't be? Last thing he remembered was Jon near popping him like a grape." It was a joke, somewhat. He wasn't even sure why he made it, but it made Laurie snicker. Maybe it was to make himself feel better about the whole thing. 

"Well, the room's ready, whenever you want to move him. If ever." 

"I appreciate it, thanks." Dan grinned, "Maybe he'll get up again and move himself." a light chuckle. Didn't seem to help. Walter had always told him his sense of humor was strange. Maybe he was right. 

A shake of her head, and Laurie sighed with a smile, "I don't know how you do it." When Dan didn't respond, giving her a rather confused look, she continued, "Honest. I mean... have you heard some of the things he's said? Some of the things he's _done?_ I mean, sure. You were his partner, but... what about after that? After the Keene Act?" An uncomfortable pause. She was right. He had no idea what he'd been up to until he showed up in his apartment, declaring that a Comedian had died in New York. Sure, the Gazette mentioned him every now and again, when he was up to something especially stupid, but otherwise... he'd fallen off of Dan's radar. And that was the part he hated the most. Laurie set her jaw, "Listen. He can stay. I'm not saying he can't. But that doesn't mean I have to like him." 

"Absolutely." Dan reached up for his glasses, adjusting them, "I understand he's not the easiest person to get along with. But, I would appreciate it if you at least tried. He's not all bad." 

Laurie grinned, "I'll believe it when I see it. And he might need a few showers first before I see _anything."_

"Yes, I know. That'll be our true challenge." the former Nite Owl looked back over at his old partner. Thank god, he didn't have to say it. Walter might've had his head if he did. He carefully made his way over to the sleeping form, staring down for a moment, feeling something in his chest. No. He liked Laurie, not him- that'd be weird. Walter would think it was weird. He shook himself out of his thoughts, gently removed the blankets, and lifted the other man. God, he was scrawny. 

"You sure he's not gonna attack you?" Laurie's questioning voice asked him, humor lightly tinting her voice. 

Dan looked down. Walter was still asleep. He couldn't imagine how tired he must've been. "He had himself jammed in a corner. I couldn't leave him like that." Laurie just smiled and shook her head again, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Did he not realize how obvious he was? How absolutely plain it was to see? But she kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to make him have to pick. Because as it stood, she could barely tolerate Walter in the same house. Much less as anything other then a roommate. It made her shiver, thinking back to the time... Rorschach? Walter? Which one? Whichever it was, came to visit her and Jon. 

_A moral lapse._

It infuriated her. Maybe she'd mention it. Hopefully she'd be able to change his mind. Walter was stubborn, though. 

Good thing she was too. 

* * *

The bed was freshly made, thanks to last minute efforts made by both occupants of the house. Dan moved the blankets, setting his partner down onto the mattress, covering him gently. How he'd managed to sleep through that was astounding to him. He _never_ slept this deeply. Just testament to his exhaustion, he supposed. The silent peace of the room was interrupted soon, though, by Walter groaning and turning over, trying to hug his new pillow. When was the last time Walter had slept in a bed? Dan had seen his apartment, after they'd busted him out of Sing Sing, but... it'd barely been that. It was four walls, a door, and a slandering landlady, along with her children. 

The children. 

Dan had seen Walter's face with the kids. When the lady had begged him not to call her a whore in front of them. Walter never talked about his past, but... he had a feeling that was part of it. He turned, shaking his head. Maybe he was just thinking about this too much. Maybe _he_ needed sleep, more then anything. The light went out, and the door was shut. Walter was still asleep. And his two new roommates would soon follow. 


	3. Chapter 3

It was a strange feeling, waking up in a comfortable bed. Warm blankets. Sunshine coming through clean windows. It felt like a fever dream. Walter sat up, slowly, blinking as amber eyes adjusted to the blinding light. Still in the same house. A quick look around, and he figured he was in a guest room. Seemed reasonable enough. Clean clothes had been laid out for him on a chair. A fresh dress shirt and pants. His elevator shoes, nicely polished. It'd been a while since he'd polished them. Quickly stripping himself of the pajamas and changing into the clothes, adjusting the shirt collar and tucking it neatly into the pants, he tried to fix the bed a bit, before leaving to the rest of the house. 

The smell of pancakes hit him first, then the unmistakable scent of coffee. Leaning into the kitchen doorway he waited, quietly, observing Daniel and Laurel. The two seemed to work perfectly together, moving around the kitchen as if they'd practiced it. It was Dan who noticed him first, with a jolt, "Oh-! Jesus- don't scare me like that, buddy." 

"Didn't intend to." He replied flatly. 

Dan straightened himself up, before speaking again, "Well, in any case, do you want breakfast with us? I think I made too many pancakes-" He glanced over. Hardly a mistake, Walter figured. He intended for him to say yes. He _wanted_ him to. And, in any case, it seemed rude to decline free food. Especially food Daniel had made. He nodded, and Daniel set to work making plates for the three of them, Laurie watching Walter with a silent feeling he couldn't quite pinpoint. Was she still hanging on to what he'd said at Rockefeller? He didn't see why she should be. He was right, wasn't he? 

They were all seated in a matter of minutes, Walter beginning to eat quickly, only to pause for drinks of coffee, and give one word answers to various questions asked by Daniel about how he slept and the clothes he was wearing. He noted that the pancakes were owl shaped ( Daniel probably thought he was _hilarious._ ), but didn't mention it. He'd given Dan enough grief about his owls over the years. He could have his childish food, if he wanted to. 

It was only when they all finished their food that Dan asked another question, "So... buddy. I don't really want to keep calling you that, so... what do you want me to call you now? Since, y'know.." he trailed off, and Walter could see why. Didn't want to mention what had almost happened. Reasonable. He silently thanked his old partner. 

He thought for a moment, sipping at his coffee, before responding quietly, "...Walter." It felt appropriate enough. After all, could he really call himself Rorschach anymore? He wanted to, so badly, but it felt wrong. It felt wrong, knowing that he'd failed. Veidt's utopia was safe, wasn't it? He thought for another moment, before eyes widened. What had happened to his journal? He mailed it out- did it get printed? 

Daniel nodded, "Alright, Walter." It felt strange, calling him something other then Rorschach. But, maybe it was time to move on from that.

Laurie just sat silently next to him, eyes still sharply staring directly into Walter. Did she still hate him? The conflicted feelings roiled in her gut. Dan liked him, yes. She knew that. And she liked Dan. Dan liked her back. Or at least, he better, considering they were getting ready to get married. But did Walter like either of them? And did she have any reason to like Walter? Right now, not really. But the thought of bringing up past mistakes seemed like a lot right now. It'd only been two days since the attack on New York. They weren't allowed to help, given they were supposed to just be civilians ( a fact they'd have to explain some time soon ), only allowed to keep their names thanks to Adrian's _graciousness_ in not killing them for what they knew, as long as they kept the rouse up. 

Walter watched Laurel for a moment, before rubbing at the edges of his dress shirt. It was good quality, from what he remembered from his time working at the garment factory. As much as he hated the women's clothing, he supposed he missed it, just a little bit. He noted Laurie was still eyeing him up, and paused his thoughts to look up at her, "Can I help you, Ms. Juspeczyk?" 

"Not... at the moment. The things I want to ask you seem like a lot right now. Besides, we have a lot to dump on you soon anyway." It seemed unfair to make him more upset then he probably already would be. 

"What do you mean?" Walter pressed, leaning forward in his chair. 

A quiet moment, before Dan began to speak, slowly, carefully, "Walter... We can't go back to being vigilantes, with everything that's happened. I know you want to, but..." he stopped, thinking again, "I'm pretty sure you don't want to go back to prison."

The ginger sat back, eyes narrowing. So he was being forced into silence, likely by the one he hated the most. Of course. He looked up at Dan, still deadly quiet. He needed to get the word out. The world needed to know. But something stopped him, deep in his gut. It was a feeling he hadn't felt since Charlton, keeping secrets for the other boys so they wouldn't get in trouble with the pastors and nuns for sneaking out to buy soda and snacks, enjoying them in the dorms late at night. The coke in green glass bottles. His hands shook. The silence still pressed down on him. Dan and Laurie waited with undying patience. He could tell Laurel was losing it, though. He needed to answer. He swallowed. Nodded. He saw the look in their eyes. The ring on Laurel's finger. 

It made him want to run. But there he sat, frozen in this new world that was going to silence him. He cursed Dan for saving him as he spoke. The words tumbled out, feeling cold and rehearsed. 

"Will keep secret."

Dan let out a quiet sigh of relief, getting up from the table, gathering the plates and silverware, "Walter, you have no idea how much that means to me." His partner said nothing, still staring straight ahead. It was a new concept, to have to compromise morals for the greater good, so Dan left him to think, Laurie still seated across the table from him. 

She watched the ginger for a moment. This was only the second time she'd seen his face, so she began to look at the details. He had freckles, distinct frown lines around his mouth, and light bags under his eyes. He didn't sleep much, she figured. Maybe that was the one thing they had in common. She spoke gently to him, far gentler then she thought she would ever speak to _Rorschach,_ "What're you thinkin' about?" 

"A lot." was his only response, eyes now fixated on his lap. She couldn't imagine what had happened between him and Jon. Dan only told her a little. A small part of her felt sorry for him. He was still human, after all. He hardly seemed to be the same person she'd seen at Rockefeller. But he was still horrible, she reminded herself. He still said what he did. She wondered if he regretted any of it. When she got up and left to get ready for work, he was gone. His calling card was on the table, with something written in his horrible chicken-scratch handwriting. 

_thanks for breakfast. - Walter_


	4. Chapter 4

New York was much cleaner then he remembered. Less undesirables roaming the streets, despite the cover of night having fallen about an hour ago. He'd been out here a while now, ever since he left after breakfast. The newsstand was gone, the two Bernards gone with it. He wasn't surprised, honestly. From what he'd heard, the monster had only fallen a few blocks away. It was gone, too. Cleaned up by the government for investigation. He wondered if Laurie had seen it up close, with all the work she was doing with them now. Of course, without telling them the secret. It boiled him inside. How weak he'd been, sitting there in Laurel's house, promising to compromise everything he'd worked for. 

Walter's mouth soured. He almost didn't want to go back. But Daniel would worry- why did he matter so much _now?_ After quitting- after _leaving-_

He shook his head. It was over. They had reunited, hadn't they? That handshake- it'd meant something. He could still feel the warmth of Daniel's hands, if he focused. But he couldn't do that. That was wrong. He needed to be like Daniel. Find a woman, or remain alone. He figured the latter would happen. Women didn't like him too much. Laurel was proof of that. 

Nevertheless, he found himself at her door again, outside of the city, an hour later, knocking quietly. It was Dan who answered, stepping aside to let him in. Something had happened, he could feel it. For some reason, he felt his stomach tightened. A quick look around. He could backtrack and bolt out the door, or climb out a window if needed, given he could break it. Opening it would be too slow, unless they were already unlocked. Doubtful. 

Laurel sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper spread in front of her. Dated that day. A week since the attack on New York. The headline stopped him cold. _Justice Lies._

His journal. It had made it. Laurel was glaring at him was knives for eyes. _"Explain."_

"My journal." he began, slowly, his breathing getting hard, "Mailed it to Frontiersman. Precaution in case I didn't return." 

Her eyes grew wide, her mouth pulling back in a snarl as she stared in disbelief, "I cannot _believe you._ You- You've-" she snatched the paper, crumpling it, throwing it into the garbage, "I don't even know what you've done, you crazy mother-"

Dan intervened, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Laurie-"

"Dan-! He's screwed us over! You were his partner, for god's sake! They know who he is, and if they find him here-!" Walter's stomach dropped as Laurel spoke. Right. Now the cops would be after him, and if not them, Veidt's people would. And then all three of them would be in hot water for ruining utopia. 

The ginger began to back up, "Justice matters, even when faced with-" 

"Shut _up!"_ Laurie raised a hand at him, and for once, he felt fear as he near fell backwards, eyes wide. His mother. She was angry again. Only Dan grabbing her wrist stopped her. She was yelling. Walter yelled back, face growing red. He couldn't count how many times he called her what he'd called so many women. It only made her more angry, which fed his rage all the same. Daniel was watching in terror as the two argued it out, only gaining the courage to intervene once his partner got close to grabbing one of Laurie's hands and doing what he had done to the scum they'd faced over the years. 

His voice was loud for once, almost intimidating, _"Alright-! Enough!"_ a pause. Walter's eyes were narrowed and puffy. He could feel his heartbeat in his head. Laurel backed up, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Dan continued, "You-" he turned first to Walter, "Don't antagonize." 

"Wasn't-" he stopped short when his partner shot a glare at him, burying his face in his freshly washed coat.

Next, he turned to his fiancée, "And Laurie-" he took a deep breath himself, "In case you hadn't noticed, Walter's whole shtick is wild theories that no one ever believes. What gives anyone any reason to believe the nonsense he wrote in that journal?" A quiet glare from the writer, but he remained yet silent. Laurie paused. Thought about what Dan had said. He _was_ right. And, it was the Frontiersman. Only right-wing nuts, like the one crumpled by the door, believed their nonsense. 

She took another deep breath, restraining herself from turning back and tearing into Walter more, "So you think we'll be fine?"

"Yes. Again, nobody has any reason in the world to believe anything he wrote. It'll probably die out in the next week, if nothing else." Dan turned back to Walter, offering him a hand, "C'mon. Get up. It'll be fine." The look on Walter's face near made him crumple. He looked like a terrified animal, backed into a corner. The hand was accepted in silence and Walter pulled himself up, slowly but surely. Dan nodded as he did, before speaking to both of his partners, "Alright. Everyone take a deep breath, and relax. I don't think I'd be able to deal with the fallout if you two killed each other." he chuckled awkwardly, "So, can you guys _try_ to get along? Please?" 

Walter looked over at Laurel and Laurel looked over at Walter. He seemed defeated, to her. Like he wasn't going to say no. Like he didn't have a choice. She nodded, "I'm willing, if you are." 

They stood there for another beat of silence before the ginger finally nodded, running a hand through his ruffled hair, "...Fine." And that was good enough for Dan, who hugged Laurie and gave his old partner a pat on the shoulder ( he could at least tolerate that ), before heading into his office, leaving Walter and Laurie alone by the front door. Unsurprisingly, Walter was the first to try to leave, "Going out." 

"No, you aren't." Laurie stopped him short, and when he turned back, confused and almost angered, she continued, "You're staying right here. Even if I don't, Dan likes you _alive._ Not in some alleyway drowning in your own blood."

The sentiment made the other turn away, trying to control the emotions that he hadn't felt in so long. No. This couldn't be right. They couldn't be nice to him just because they wanted to. There had to be something else, there had to be. But he remained in the house. The guest room was waiting. Turning, he made the slow march back to it, Laurie watching him the whole way. He could feel her eyes on his back. What did he know about her? He'd only seen her a few times, the first being back at the Crimebusters meeting. He'd been young. Soft. Not completely free of lust. She'd been attractive. But that was wrong, he corrected. She'd only been sixteen. Why Manhattan had dated her, he'd never know.

She was stubborn, like him. But she had the opposite viewpoint. Why? Something had shaped her view of the world, much like something had shaped his. What led to such difference? He needed to know. But, he reminded himself as he changed to sleep through a night for once, she'd never tell _him._


	5. Chapter 5

He'd been with them a month. A whole month, and they hadn't evicted him. 

It was astounding, to him. He was, at the very least, surprised they hadn't thrown him out the front door yet. Especially after he made a mess of the kitchen one late night after coming in from a patrol, disguised as a simple walk. Sure, he was in his regular clothes, but that didn't matter. He had the mask in his pocket. Walter was doing that again tonight, following his old route along where the newsstand used to be, and ending up back at Laurel's house. The lights were on. That was new. The door was unlocked. Also new. Was someone expecting him to come back? The old feeling of realization from October rose up in his gut. He could still see the bullet hole in his head. 

But it was just Laurel, at the kitchen table, reading over files, he presumed, for work. Daniel was in bed, he figured. Nite Owl had fallen out of being a night owl. How ironic. He approached gently, before speaking, "Ms. Juzpescyk."

She looked up, eyes tired, "Walter. Thought you might've gone out. There's coffee left." She gestured behind her, Walter noting her own mug of the stuff, before following her gestures back to the coffee machine. "I swear, I need this stuff to function nowadays." 

"Doesn't sound pleasant." He remarked, staying right where he was, "What are you doing?" 

"Well," Laurie began, "Now the government's all in a fuss because of your little book, so I'm the one who has to give the statement tomorrow to try and keep people from rioting against Veidt." 

"Why?"

"Veidt's one of the richest men in the world, Walter. The government couldn't live without him. And being the president that let a wealthy man like him just destroy New York with no repercussions wouldn't exactly look good for Nixon." 

Walter rolled his eyes, "Dick never looked good, what's your point?" 

That earned him a light laugh, which surprised him, before Laurie spoke again, "Well. At least we agree on _one_ thing." 

"Think we agree on more then we think." He poured himself a mug of coffee before joining Laurie at the table. He didn't need to sleep, anyway. Sliding over one of the documents currently not under revision by Laurie, he read over it, before pointing to a particular passage, "Wrong tense." 

She jolted, before looking over at him, "...Pardon?"

"Wrong tense. Here." he turned the paper and pointed again, only for Laurie to stop and reword what she had said.

"No, no, I heard you. But... how did _you_ see that?" 

"Insulted, Ms. Juzpescyk." Walter snorted, and she sighed before listening to him continue, "Excelled in literature in school. Can figure out past, present, and future tense." he shot her side eye before sipping his coffee.

Laurie's mind just blanked for a moment. She'd never considered that he'd been particularly well read, but now hearing that... it was strange. Not that she minded. She would've been more concerned had he _not_ known how to read. She wondered how much of his backstory would surprise her. "Oh." she looked around at the papers sprawled across the table, "Would you mind just... proofreading this stack, then?" she gathered the already written portions of her statement, and slid them over to Walter, who gave her a small look before beginning to read over the papers, stealing one of Laurie's pens to mark mistakes. 

He looked like a discount English teacher, Laurie mused, minus maybe, a nerdy pair of glasses like Dan's. They worked like that for what seemed like forever, Laurie finishing and passing over papers to Walter, who corrected her exhaustion-induced mistakes and passed them back. It was efficient, which she appreciated. And he didn't spend the entire time rambling about the innards of the newest government machine or the next particle that he had discovered. He was... surprisingly human. 

She shook her head. She liked Dan. That was the end of it. 

When they'd made it through the entire speech to be given, Walter stood up, stretched, then faced Laurie, "Still hate me?" 

"I never-" Laurie stopped and sighed. Well, she might as well have. She definitely didn't do anything to contradict that claim. "I don't _hate_ you. I just... extremely dislike some of the things you believe in." When he raised an eyebrow, she continued, "Like... Rockefeller?" 

"Ah." was all she got before Walter turned away, cleared his throat, and straightened his suit jacket, "Figured you were still angry." 

A shake of Laurie's head, "No. I'm not so much angry anymore as much as... confused." she blinked slowly, trying to wake herself up just a little more. Her coffee had gone cold. "It seems to be against everything you've ever done, right? That one guy you ended up killing and throwing at the police when they sent out the Keene Act? Wasn't he-"

"Yes." Walter didn't look at her. They both sat in agonizing silence. Neither of them wanted to say it, really. It was harsh. But Walter swallowed, continuing, "Comedian fought for country. Seems to outweigh-" 

"Do you _know_ how many times he got court-martialed? Too many for a normal guy. Especially the one that's supposed to be a government sponsored "hero"." Laurie countered, watching the man in front of her's reaction. He was stiffening up. Had no one ever challenged his ideas like this? Ever? Well, it didn't surprise her. Even if they did, they'd probably get their fingers broken. But then, why was he not outright going after _her?_

He just pulled at his shirt sleeve, before turning back, and sitting down at the table again. "Keep going." 

She sat, stunned, "Excuse me?" 

"Tell me more. What makes you so angry about him?" 

He was... _letting her_ explain her thoughts? She almost smiled, but managed to keep herself under wraps. He wanted everything? She'd tell him _everything._

* * *

When Dan awoke the next morning, his fiancee was beside him, sound asleep, and Walter... Walter was at the kitchen table, fast asleep in his clothes. He crept over, trying not to wake him suddenly, before shaking him gently to attempt to stir him. It worked, surprisingly, Walter giving a quiet yawn and stretching as he sat up, turning to face the source of his disturbance, "...Daniel." 

"Walter." Dan returned the greeting, "Why're you sleeping in here?" 

The other man thought for a moment, trying to remember the night before, slowly beginning to explain himself, "Proofread Ms. Juzpescyk's statement. Helped her correct it." He thought a bit more, before deciding against what he was about to say. It seemed too personal. "Hope it goes well." 

There was a moment of confusion, before Dan smiled at his old partner, who prepared himself to leave for another "walk" ( Dan always knew what he was really trying to do ). A quick thought, and the words tumbled out of him before he even got a moment to process them, "Walter, how would you feel about getting actual help?" 

They could've heard a pin drop. 

Walter turned, facing Dan just in front of the door frame with the most baffled look he'd ever imagined on this man face, "...What do you mean?" 

"Like... I don't know... a therapist? A psychologist? Anything?" 

If there was anything Dan would swear on right now, it was that Walter likely would never come back now. He'd just blown every chance he had right here with nine words. The silence cut into both of them, before Walter mumbled out, "...Would that let me stay?" 

Oh. So that was what he was afraid of? Getting thrown out? Well, it should've been reasonable, in his head. Walter had never really had a _home_ like this. It must've felt like a dream, or something. Like he wasn't supposed to be existing with them. Dan sighed, and smiled, "Buddy. You'd be able to stay either way. You have my word on that. But I think some professional help would do you some good."

The ginger by the door began to mess with his shirt sleeves, thinking through Dan's proposition. So he could stay, even if he refused... but that made no sense. Surely, in order for them to deal with him, he'd need to get help. Had Laurel said something? Or was this all Daniel's thinking? He wasn't too sure, nor did he really want to know. It was frustrating, and a small tear in the sleeve he was playing with made him stop, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. He felt his insides tighten, "Think I'm crazy, Daniel?"

"No-!" Dan put his hands up defensively, looking damn near shocked at the suggestion, "No, I don't." he stopped, sighed, took off his glasses, and began to clean them. "I don't even know what I thought. But... I do want to see you... happy, Walter. Maybe get a fresh start."

Oh, that idea was so intoxicating to Walter. That deep, crazed feeling within him stirred, screaming at him to reject it, but he'd been here too long. He'd somehow managed to push it away. It was right here in front of him now. He could swear he saw his own American Dream right before his eyes. The American Love in green glass Coke bottles. It was here, in this house, just outside of New York city. It made him tremble. Out of delight for a future or fear of the unknown, he wasn't the least bit sure. He turned to his old partner. Something bubbled in his chest. He held out a hand. "Will do it, Daniel." 

Dan's own, delightfully warm hand took his, "You won't regret it, buddy." 

"Know I won't." Walter could _feel_ his face getting warm, "You're a good friend, Daniel." 


	6. Chapter 6

The next few months were a blur of medications, white therapy rooms, and uncountable tests done to make sure Walter Kovacs wasn't still a menace to society. It took a while to find the right one, but eventually he found a therapist that wasn't just seeing him because of the fame that would inevitably come with it. It reminded him too much of Dr. Long, and the way he shoved other prisoners aside, in favor of the one that would get him fame. They all needed more help then him. Did they get it? Likely not. Because their names were forgettable. Disposable. All the others had given up on him anyway. Cast him off because he refused to speak to them. He wondered if they ever figured out why. 

Walter shifted uncomfortably in the chair he'd been directed to in his new therapist's office, before getting up and beginning to investigate. The window could be easily unlocked. There was a small placard on his desk, stating the doctor's name. Dr. Burton. When he, Laurel, and Daniel had first met him to schedule, he reminded him a lot of Long. But the way this one smiled, had a sparkle in his eyes. There wasn't anything malicious, from what he could tell. He had to promise them both that he would actually try to talk to this one, and not shell up, holding in everything that he needed help with. And so he did, with only minimal griping, to his own surprise. 

The door clicked, and Walter turned with a jolt, facing now his new therapist. Malik Burton, from what he remembered. The man smiled, soft caramel eyes crinkling at the edges, "Walter. Glad to see you could make it." The ginger nodded with a slight cringe inward at himself. What did the doctor think he was doing? Stealing? Hopefully not. "Can I get you a water?" the other voice startled him again, dragging his attention to a mini fridge behind Burton's desk. He just nodded, and out came a cool bottle of water, which Walter just held in his lap as he sat back down. 

And so the session began, Malik seating himself across from Walter, and offering another smile, "Again, I'm happy to see you here today, Walter. Now- is there anything you wanted to start with? Anything you'd like to tell me before we really begin?" 

Running his thumb up and down the length of the water bottle, Walter thought through everything he'd been thinking he should reveal. His mother. Should he start with her? Why he flinched when Laurie jokingly called him a bastard? Or Charlton School? The catholic rhetoric that twisted his young mind, mistranslated passages that made him repress parts of himself for years on end. The fellow male students who made it very clear where they stood on misfits like him, through various not so pleasant words. How they mocked and disparaged the Silhouette when they read through comic books after the group had fallen apart. Was he even what they said he was? He liked Laurie... did he? So he couldn't be. But he liked Daniel too. It made his head spin, honestly. He shook his head, "Nothing comes to mind."

"Alright, then!" the doctor smiled, before opening up a small notepad and clicking a pen, "So... would you mind if I asked a couple questions? Got to know you a little?" When his patient shook his head, he continued with a nod, "O-k. So... just, tell me how you're feeling today. Let's start with the now, shall we? No judgement, no interruptions."

It seemed fake. Like he needed to lie. But Walter shoved it down. For his American Dream. "...angry. Feels like buzzing. Sure you heard about journal released months ago." a pause, he watched the doctor. He was taking notes, only looking up when Walter paused, so he continued, "Veidt still free. Feel sick about it." He'd studied literature in school, and had been such a well-spoken child, but here now, he could barely find the words to describe his own emotions, "Feel desire to return to my face. Punish Veidt." He fell silent, thinking on his own words. He'd been completely honest, finally. It felt like... a weight, off of his chest. It was odd. 

Malik wrote some more, before looking up at Walter, "Does this anger drive you to action? What do you do when you feel it?" he questioned.

Shoving down the urge to lie once more, Walter buried his face in his coat, "Break fingers. Limbs. Find scum who deserve it." 

"Walter, I'm not here to judge." The doctor reassured, "I'm here to help. You don't have to hide from me. I promise." He thought for a moment, before thinking of something, "Would it help if I put on music?" 

Music. Walter liked music. He'd found Daniel and Laurel's CDs and spent his hours alone listening to them. He hadn't had so much music since... he couldn't remember. He nodded, slowly letting his muscles relax. A part of him thanked this doctor for not shoving reminders of his time behind latex in his face. Malik got up, sliding a CD into a small radio, letting Frank Sinatra's voice fill the small room. Walter let his breathing come back. His head returned to his shoulders. 

_Best is yet to come and babe won't that be fine_   
_You think you've seen the sun_   
_But you ain't seen it shine._

"So, Walter. Do you live with anyone currently? Are they helping you control this anger?" 

The ginger nodded carefully, taking a small sip of water and slowly emerging from his jacket, "Two people. Daniel and Ms. Juspeczyk. Laurel."

"Why do you call her by her title, rather then her first name?"

"Feels wrong."

Some more writing, and Malik looked over his patient again. He nodded, clicking his pen shut. "You've told me a lot today, Walter. I'm proud of you for that. I honestly didn't think we'd make such good progress in the first session!" He smiled brightly. 

Walter looked down in his lap, "Done this too many times. Have to." When the doctor gave him a worried look, he continued, "Daniel wants help for me. Other doctors too ambitious. Only want me for money. Only want me for fame." he could still see the dog's split head in the inkblot card Long had shown him. His mother and her bastard dancing their sick dance. Richie's eye sizzling under the light of the cigarette. 

_The best is yet to come_   
_And babe won't it be fine_   
_Best is yet to come-_

Malik just nodded, getting up and giving Walter a firm pat on the shoulder, "I'm not here for the fame, Walter. I can promise you that now. You are a person in need of help, and it's my responsibility to provide it. And that's what I'm going to do, understand? Now-" he gave Walter a gesture to follow, which he began to, getting up from the chair, "Hopefully in the next couple sessions we'll be able to pinpoint something that's causing this anger and your violent outbursts, but for now, just work on finding out what sets it off. What makes you so angry? Sure, Veidt, but is there anything else? Work on it, and we'll talk it out next time." He gave another smile, a handshake, and returned to his office, leaving Walter to make his way out of the practice.

Daniel and Laurel were grocery shopping. They'd be back for him soon. He leaned back against the wall, putting his head onto the warm stone. 

_I'm gonna teach you to fly_   
_We've only tasted the wine_   
_We're gonna drain the cup dry._

Walter's face felt warm, so warm in the sun. It was nice outside today. Sun peeking through thin sheets of silver cloud. It had misted this morning, leaving a thin fog towards the ground. It reminded Walter of those old passages about heaven. He could still hear the music from inside Malik's office. 

_Wait til I draw you near_   
_And wait til you see that sunshine place_   
_Ain't nothing like it here-_

The tears began to stream down his face. A strangled wheezing forced itself out of him, and for the first time in a long time, Walter Joseph Kovacs began to laugh. 

_The best is yet to come._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA YOU BITCHES THOUGHT YOU GOT RID OF ME?

It was his birthday. March 21st. 

He'd made it to forty six, surprisingly. He'd never expected to, after Karnak. He didn't expect Daniel or Laurel to know it even was his birthday. Not that it mattered. It was just another day. Another year. He managed to get a candy bar when he went out, eating it just as quickly as he'd gotten it. He needed to find a job. He couldn't keep leeching off of his roommates forever, he mused. Maybe he'd return to a garment factory, like he'd done in his teens. Could he? Who would hire Ror- no. Couldn't call himself that anymore. Who would hire Walter Kovacs?

Walter took the long way home. Home. How'd Laurel's house become his home? Maybe because he didn't have anywhere else. 

A note on the table said that the two were out, but there was an early present in Walter's room. The guest room that he'd taken over. Putting the note back down on the table, he ventured into his room. The room had a desk before he got there, but he'd never had use for it. But on it, was a box. Neatly wrapped in paper decorated in ( of course ), owls. Unsurprising. It made him snort. He tore into it, discarding it, before looking down at what was in front of him. A new journal. Leather. Neatly bound. Like his first one, when he'd first gotten it. This one, however, was labeled with the new year. 1986. A sticky note on the top read, in Laurie's handwriting: _Here's to a new year._

He opened it. Clean pages. Crisp. He let go and they shut themselves. Barely opened. Perfect. A new pen was set with it. 

So Walter clicked it open, and began to write. 

_Kovacs' Journal. March 21st, 1986._

* * *

When Daniel and Laurel got home, they had bought a cake. For him. It even said happy birthday on it. It was chocolate, with some sort of frosting that Walter didn't really care what it was, but it was tasty. He hadn't had many sweets ( tragically ) since October. He had seconds and thirds of the cake. Daniel was laughing. Making bad jokes. For once, he didn't mind. Laurie was snorting. Had she always snorted when she laughed? Why did that make it more funny?

He even began to laugh. A strangled sound pulling itself out of his throat. Like it hadn't been used in a while. The sweetness of the cake was burning his throat. He needed water. But he was busy. He was laughing. His chest felt strangled. A few deep breaths helped him pull himself together. The two other people at the table wished him "happy birthday!", asking if he felt old yet, to which he replied no. He'd always say no. Feeling old was weakness. Hollis called the house, and wished Walter a happy birthday, passing along another well wish from Laurel's mother. He figured Dan and Laurel had told them. Just so he could "properly celebrate his birthday". Whatever that meant.

Of course, his own parent was dead, his mother having died alone in an alley. He'd never met his step-father, wondered if the man even knew he existed, despite sharing a middle and last name with him. Peter, he found out. And he'd never known his father. So he took what he got. Wishes from Hollis and Sally and whoever else happened to know. It almost felt nice. 

Walter watched as Dan made dinner, cheeks heating up. No. Stop that. Dan looked over, and smiled at him, which made it even more unbearable. Why was he like this? Why did he make him feel this way? Laurel noticed. He knew she did. They'd gotten married last month, though. He didn't want to intrude on that. He already felt strange enough. Walter smiled after dinner when he noticed they got him a box of cordial cherries. The good kind. His favorite. He ate two of them, saving the rest for later. 

Walter Kovacs was forty six years old. And what a sweet birthday it was, indeed. 


End file.
